Rìona wept when she awoke on the grimy floor of the Circle Tower facing the dead, staring eyes of the mage, Niall. Here was another she could not save, for he had been in the Fade too long, while his body lay drained by the abomination inhabited by the demon, Sloth. He'd been so hopeless, so despairing, but he had helped her as best he could, and given her the key to defeat Uldred and his blood mages.
The Litany of Adralla.
Her companions, who had seen her final talk with Niall in the Fade, were confused by her distress. She could not explain to them that she had hoped to awaken and find him alive after all, that it had merely been his pessimism and the way that the Fade eventually began to drain all hope from one that had led him to believe his body was no longer alive.
Her tears, though bitter, were short-lived, and then Rìona rose and brushed herself off, turning her attention forward. Somewhere in this final floor of the Circle Tower she would find more survivors. She must.
"Are you all right?" Leliana asked as Rìona pressed ahead.
"Yes, of course," answered Rìona, looking down. "I find myself wondering... where would we have found Aodhán, had he survived and been brought here? Would he be among the countless corpses of fallen mages we've passed? Or among the defenders of the tower, like Niall, desperately giving their final breath to salvage something of the disaster Uldred has wrought here? Among the blood mages we've slain, using any means to win their freedom? Or would he be one of these faceless abominations we've fought, never knowing which mage they once were?"
"I am sure he would have done what is right," the bard said reassuringly.
Rìona turned an embittered gaze upon her. "And what precisely is right, anymore? We're killing far more mages than we're saving."
For that, Leliana had no ready answer.
It was the next group of abominations that undid her.
As with the previous ones, they attacked immediately and savagely. Rìona held back for a moment, seeking to find some way to communicate with them, as they had been able to do with the Sloth abomination. Leliana paid the price for that hesitation when an abomination Rìona might have incapacitated got past Alistair and Sten. The bard took a vicious wound to her bicep that immediately sent blood pouring down her arm. She struggled to keep her aim accurate after Sten had engaged the abomination which had attacked her.
Once all the creatures were dead, Rìona rushed to Leliana's side to see what her ambivalence had cost them, her face a mask of anguish.
"I'm so very sorry," Rìona said as Leliana gritted her teeth against the pain. Wynne examined the wound, and then her hands began to glow as she set them on either side of the deep gash. Slowly, the flesh began to knit together and Leliana's face relaxed. "That would not have happened had I not hesitated."
"What exactly did you think you would accomplish, trying to talk to these creatures?" an irate Sten demanded.
"Clearly, some of them can communicate and don't immediately attack," she answered defensively. "The Sloth abomination could. Perhaps others can as well!"
"Did you ever think that communicating with them might not be a good thing?" Alistair asked. "After all, look what happened to us with the Sloth abomination. We can't afford to get sucked into the Fade again for hours."
"The demon who ensorcelled that templar with visions of a wife and family also communicated, and we weren't drawn into the Fade then. It tried to convince us it meant us no harm, that it only wished to be left alone with the templar." Rìona cast her gaze about desperately, seeking to bring some order to her jumbled thoughts. "And Connor communicated as well and didn't immediately attack. I learned much about these demons while we were in the Fade, for that was the key to winning our freedom. Rage. Hunger. Sloth. Desire. Pride. Some are more powerful and intelligent than others. If we can just find one who communicates, perhaps we may... treat with them."
"You don't treat with demons!" Alistair yelled. "Are you insane? That's how you end up possessed yourself!"
"What shall we do then, Alistair?" Rìona demanded, dashing away impotent tears as they shone in her eyes. She gestured at the dead abomination at her feet. "Kill our own army before we even have a chance to assemble it? These are the mages we came here to recruit! You cannot convince me they were all blood mages."
"No," Wynne said thoughtfully. "Even Uldred and all his Libertarians cannot account for the number of abominations we've seen. If I had to guess, I would say that the Veil has been torn and the demons getting through are possessing the mages who survived the initial attack. But this shouldn't be happening. Any mage strong enough to pass the Harrowing should be able to resist forcible possession, from all but perhaps the strongest of demons, so long as the mage does not become distracted."
"Uldred was possessed forcibly," Rìona pointed out. "Niall was in the meeting. He said Uldred tried to summon a demon when Irving would not let him go, and the demon overwhelmed him."
"Then it was a strong demon indeed that he summoned," answered Wynne. "For Uldred was a capable mage, if a thoroughly unlikeable fellow. As for these others... I cannot say. They're not powerful enough to make me believe they were all possessed by force, and yet I cannot believe they would willingly succumb."
Rìona gestured to the scroll tucked into her belt pouch. "What about Uldred's blood magic?"
"You mean do I think he may be forcing these mages to agree to possession with mind domination?" Wynne's eyes narrowed. "Yes. Yes, you may be right."
"I don't see what that has to do with anything," Alistair said stubbornly.
"We're killing victims, Alistair," Rìona said softly. "These are innocents who were simply going about their day in the Tower until Uldred unleashed his chaos. Shouldn't we be trying to save them, as we did Connor?"
"The boy you mentioned?" Wynne asked. "I assume you sent a mage into the Fade to confront the demon, then? Yes, that can be done in the case of a willing possession. If the demon was slain in the Fade, it would sever the connection."
"Surely we can do the same here, then, if these mages were possessed by coercion?" Rìona asked, her eyes brightening. "Can we save them?"
"Save them? You mean—oh, no." Alistair moaned, understanding her intent.
Rìona turned to look at the witch. "Is it possible, Morrigan? Is it possible to send a mage into the Fade as we did before, to confront the demons and drive them out of these abominations, as we did with Connor?"
"No," Morrigan answered decisively. "Oh, we've lyrium aplenty now, so we wouldn't have to use blood, and with the Veil so weak here, the sex rite would suffice in the absence of the usual number of mages required for such a thing. But the logistics of tracking down each of the demons possessing a mage here back to their origin in the Fade and slaying them are nearly impossible. In Redcliffe the Veil was relatively sound, and there was only one demon to contend with, and yet it took me hours to locate the demon and dispatch it, and it was not a particularly strong demon. Here, the Veil is much more porous, and the demons are too numerous to be counted."
"Blood? Sex rite?" Wynne asked, narrowing her eyes at Morrigan, her posture becoming rigid, as though bracing herself for battle. "Are you a blood mage, then?"
"I am not," Morrigan replied, giving Wynne a disdainful glance. "The mage we encountered in Redcliffe, however, was. In the absence of your Circle, we availed ourselves of his abilities."
Wynne turned her concerned gaze to Rìona. "Is this true?"
Sighing, Rìona nodded. "It was a choice between blood magic, or killing a child, or risking the safety of an entire village," she admitted, carefully leaving out the mention of a human sacrifice. "I do not condone blood magic, but given my alternatives at the time, it seemed the best option."
The Circle mage relented, though she clearly looked cross to find her newfound allies had even dabbled with such things. Rìona dismissed it; there was no time now.
"What can we do to get around the logistical issue?" she asked instead. "Surely there must be some connection between here and the Fade, some way to trace the demons back to their origin."
"At least some of the difficulty I had at Redcliffe was that I was not in the boy's presence when I entered the Fade and could not follow the link between him and the demon directly. I had to locate the magical filament binding the two and track it to its source. If I were in the abomination's presence, however, 'twould make the matter much simpler," the witch answered thoughtfully. "But of course, if I were in such a one's presence, it would attack before the rite could be conducted."
"Which brings us back to the problem of convincing them not to attack," Rìona said, her shoulders slumping hopelessly. "Even if we could find one of the intelligent ones with whom we could communicate, once it—he, she—learned our intentions, the abomination would attack. Maker's balls!" she cursed in disgust.
Morrigan looked troubled, stroking her hand over the leather cover of the grimoire they had found in a locked chest in the First Enchanter's study. Despite the tension between them, Rìona had been true to her word and handed the tome over, and Morrigan had spoken to her more warmly and gratefully than had been her wont since they had disagreed over the matter of Rìona's pregnancy en route to Redcliffe. When the witch lifted her eyes once more, they were conflicted.
"I have a thought, though I doubt you'll thank me for it," she said at last, her voice reluctant. Whatever emotion had been in her eyes faded, and she looked as impassive and untouched as ever.
"Tell me," Rìona said desperately.
"The sex rite is intended to generate enough magical energy to open the Veil in the absence of blood or lyrium, and allow the participant to pass though, without crudely tearing the Veil. Any mage with lyrium can pass into the Fade, after all. The reason such a procedure normally requires a number of mages is to control the opening of the Veil and seal the rift once it is no longer needed."
Rìona nodded. "I'm listening."
"The rite allows the participant in the sex act to pass through," Morrigan repeated, her gaze strangely intent. "Rather than send a mage through, who would then have to track down and defeat each of the demons in the Fade one after the other, we could instead send the demons back through... were they to be the participants in the sex rite."
"What?" Alistair practically screamed. "Are you actually proposing someone have sex with these... things?"
"Oh, Maker. Not 'someone,' Alistair. Me." Rìona groaned, closing her eyes. "No. I can't. A harlot I may be, but even I have my limits. I can't... fuck a demon."
"As you wish," Morrigan inclined her head in assent. "It is of no matter to me. Come. I am sure we have many more abominations to slay before we are done here."
Rìona opened her eyes to glare at the witch.
"Even if you were to do such a dangerous and ill-advised thing, Warden," Wynne said sternly, placing a hand on Rìona's shoulder and giving Morrigan a hard stare. "It would gain us nothing. Simply sending the demons back to the Fade would not be enough. A connection would still exist, between the mage and the demon. Not a full possession, but the next time the mage tapped into the Fade to draw power for a spell, the demon would be able to find him or her and renew the possession. Imagine being in the middle of battle against the archdemon and having your mages suddenly become abominations, out loose in the world. No, it is impossible. The mages would have to be made Tranquil immediately, never to use magic again, and that would defeat the purpose."
Morrigan contradicted her, her tone soft and yet somehow smug. "Not if the demons were slain as they passed back into the Fade."
"How?" Rìona demanded.
"When the demons cross the Veil, they would have a moment of vulnerability," the witch explained. "A moment when they were disoriented and stunned. And while the Veil remained open, in that moment the magical link between the mage and the demon would be as clear and as solid as a well-cobbled path. Magic could be sent along that path after them, a powerful spell to destroy them while they are incapacitated. 'Twould need be a mighty spell, but it could be done."
"Is this true?" Rìona asked Wynne. The Circle mage frowned.
"Yes, that might work, if the abominations are victims of a willing possession. But it's still a foolish risk," Wynne said with a shake of her head. "You have no way of knowing which abominations were possessed by force or coercion, for a start. And what of those who are actually blood mages, siding with Uldred? They will hardly thank you once they are themselves again, or willingly fight for you."
Rìona's eyes hardened. "It is because of mages such as them that the rest are unjustly imprisoned without having ever comitted a crime," she said flatly. "They will fight for me, or face summary execution for what they have wrought here."
"There is another consideration," Wynne continued after a moment. "A desire abomination, perhaps, might have the intelligence and will to agree to such a thing, if you could trick it into doing so, but rage and hunger abominations would be violent. You could be badly injured or killed. As one of the two Grey Wardens remaining in Ferelden, you cannot take such a chance with yourself."
"Even if..." Alistair hesitated, then set his jaw and plunged ahead. "Even if you survived, what of your... your babe?"
"You are with child?" Wynne asked sharply, and Rìona nodded, glowering at Alistair who returned the look with one of stubborn resolution. Wynne turned to Morrigan in outrage. "If the abominations became violent, the Warden could miscarry, at the very least!"
"The Warden and I have discussed the conflict her decision to carry her child will create with her duties to end the Blight," Morrigan replied dispassionately. "'Tis her choice, of course, whether she wishes to be nothing more than a coddled breeding mare or a Grey Warden."
Rìona sat down weakly and Leliana took up a nearly defensive stance at her shoulder, as though she would act as Rìona's bodyguard should any of their companions press her. Rìona stared at the floor, mulling her choices, then finally asked Wynne, "Do you know any offensive spells, such as Morrigan describes? Something powerful which could be sent into the Fade after the demons to destroy them once we have driven them out of the mages?"
"I know one, though it's more effective against a target which has been frozen or petrified," Wynne said grimly.
"I have one such spell, if we cannot find another mage for it," Morrigan offered. "Once the rite is concluded and the Veil opened, I would be free to cast. Since it will not be myself generating the energy which would power the ritual, I would have sufficient mana remaining once the rite is done."
"Tell me you're not seriously considering this," Alistair pleaded.
"What else can I do?" Rìona asked desperately. "We cannot continue to slay the very army we're meant to be gathering. You said it yourself, the mages are a much stronger offensive force than the templars. We need them."
"Yes, but—"
Rìona shook her head emphatically. "I cannot base my decisions upon the fact that I am with child," she said firmly. "I knew my decision not to rid myself of this babe was a risky one that would create hardships down the line. I could do nothing else, because this child is the last of two great and ancient bloodlines. I will preserve it if I can and carry it to birthing, by the Maker's mercy. But I will not allow it to prevent me doing my duty as a Grey Warden, even if that means losing the babe. Do you understand?"
Unhappily, Alistair nodded.
"It would be a waste of resources to slay these mages if they can yet be used," Sten interjected. "Such is the Warden's strength and purpose, to use her foes' desires against them."
Surprised by his approbation, Rìona glanced at Sten. He returned her look sternly and rumbled, "I also recommend properly leashing your mages in the future," and walked away as Rìona scowled.
"Then it's decided," Rìona said softly, her tone resigned. "If I can find an abomination with whom I can negotiate, I shall attempt to lure them into performing Morrigan's sex rite with me."
"Just like that?" Alistair asked unhappily, squatting in front of her to look her in the eyes. "How exactly are you intending to proposition an abomination?"
"I don't know." She shook her head, though an idea was already starting to form. "I'll think of something. It's what I do, after all, isn't it?"
"Please don't do this," he whispered, looking as though he was near tears. Rìona glanced away.
"What do you imagine Duncan would have done, in this situation?" she said after a moment. "Would he have slain the stronger fighting force in favor of the weaker? Or would he have done whatever was necessary to salvage the mages and secure their aid?"
"I don't know. He often said that the Grey Wardens do whatever it takes, but I don't think he would ever have imagined this. I don't think he'd risk a Grey Warden for it."
"Is my life somehow worth more than those of the mages we might save?" Rìona queried, arching a brow at him.
Alistair shrugged helplessly, his distress apparent as he rubbed the rune-marked ring on his left hand with his thumb. "The Blight can be defeated without them. It can't without you."
Rìona's eyes hardened. "And that's precisely why I must do this," she said. "I appreciate that you cared for Duncan, Alistair, but he was a ruthless man. Kind at times, yes, and dedicated..."
"I thought you said he was a friend to your family!" Alistair protested.
"And so he was, at least until the very end. But he was willing to sacrifice anything and anyone for his cause. He used people, and I won't be like him. If we have to live in a world where each life is given a quantifiable value, I'm not certain it's even worth saving it from the Blight."
"Maybe," he grated, clearly displeased with her criticism of Duncan. "But that's not what this is about! You admitted that much before."
"Yes, I did," Rìona sighed. "Forget the dreams of the archdemon. If I don't do everything within my power to save these mages, every night for the rest of my life, each abomination we have slain here will wear Aodhán's face. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need some privacy."
She shooed them out of the strange partitioned chamber which hosted a variety of sleeping nooks, offering the templars within only partial privacy, and began to dig through armoires and vanities until she found what she needed.
Oil. The most valuable tool in a whore's complement, for minimizing discomfort in the absence of desire. She prepared herself mechanically, unthinkingly, barely aware of the touch of her own fingers spreading the oil over her folds and within her front and nether entrances.
This was not, could not ever be, about pleasure.
She'd been taught how to find passion in any situation, desire for any partner, no matter how unlikely or unlovely. It was as much a part of her art as her skill at giving pleasure. Now, she did the opposite. She made herself numb and empty, shutting away that part of her that could be roused so readily to desire. In doing so, she closed herself off to the horror, disgust and despair she felt at the prospect of what she had proposed to do. If she let herself think about it, let herself feel it, she would surely run mad.
Among the belongings of the dead templars, she found a padded gambeson that would not be so huge on her that it would encumber her ability to use her bow. She removed her precious leathers and donned that instead. It would not offer quite as much by way of protection, but it would be easy to remove if necessary and would spare her irreplaceable armor should matters become violent.
When she emerged, her party and Wynne hovered restlessly about in the corridor and Morrigan approached her, clearly annoyed.
"You may wish to have a discussion with that fool templar and the bard," the witch said huffily. "They are already plotting their strategies for attacking should any of the abominations handle you roughly. You, of all people, can surely recognize that for some, a bit of brutality spices the dish. If they interrupt precipitously, this will all be for naught."
Rìona nodded and looked at Alistair and Leliana, who were watching her expectantly, with Sten and Wynne behind them, barely less attentive. "There is a difference between pain and injury," she stated, her voice sounding to her own ears as though it belonged to someone else entirely. "If it heightens the abomination's desire, I can sustain some discomfort and even pain. Certainly I have no expectation of pleasure from this event; if I am distressed, hopefully that will be all the more pleasing for... it. If this... utterly mad scheme seems to be working, do not interrupt unless I am in genuine danger of being harmed."
She gestured to Alistair and he took his customary position at point, the better to intercept any creatures they should encounter. Mindful of her lack of armor, Rìona remained even farther to the back than usual, falling into stride with Wynne.
"Are you certain about this plan, Warden?" asked the Circle mage.
"Not in the slightest."
"One wonders if your companion Morrigan actually wishes you to be harmed, for I can see no other purpose to this," Wynne muttered. "The mages who have become these abominations... they were my friends and comrades, in some way even my family. But even I would not have thought to ask you to go so far, and at such a potential personal cost, for them."
"You didn't ask," Rìona said shortly. "I do this for my own reasons."
Wynne nodded. "Whatever those reasons may be, Warden, you have my gratitude."
In the end, it was almost ridiculously simple to put her plan into action.
They found the remainder of the surviving mages—both those who had been possessed and those last few still resisting—at the very top of the tower, in the Harrowing chamber. They were being tortured by Uldred and several other abominations. Tortured, and their minds manipulated and warped, until they succumbed and agreed to be possessed. Before her eyes, she saw a mage yield, saw the monstrous transformation that turned the man into a... creature.
Uldred, at least, still appeared human, but he was surrounded by a trio of abominations. These abominations, she surmised, must be trusted lieutenants. Only one attempted to attack immediately and it stopped at a gesture from Uldred. As for the remainder, they stood watchfully and the gleam of intelligence shone in their eyes. Sloth demons, then, at the very least. More likely desire.
And Uldred himself, she knew, was pride. It was apparent in every sneering word, every arrogant gesture and disdainful dismissal as he taunted Rìona and Wynne. Pride, the most clever and avaricious and powerful of all demons.
To appeal to him would require more than simple lust or pleasure, but it was Uldred himself who gave her the opportunity to trawl her bait before him.
"I could give you this gift, Wynne," he cajoled, "You and all your mages. It would be so much easier if you just accepted. But some people can be so stubborn."
Rìona stepped forward, standing beside the mage. She let her tone match his own, dripping with arrogant certitude. "It is not stubbornness that prevents them joining you, Uldred, or whatever you have become. They merely understand that I offer them something better."
"Don't be ridiculous!" he jeered. "Nothing can possibly compare with the power of the demon. When you and these remaining fools have finally yielded, we shall be enough to overpower the templars."
"You're really rather dim, aren't you?" Rìona mocked, and the pride abomination drew back as though stung, actually hissing at her. "What do you think awaits them if they should win their way past the templars and make their way out into the world? They may sow death and destruction for a while, but the oncoming Blight to the south will leave them little to play with in short order, and to the north and west lay more lands with armies of templars waiting to end them. What I offer them is considerably more."
"And what is that?"
"Power. Nearly limitless power," she taunted. "Can you offer them such a thing, without requiring blood to earn them the fear and enmity of all they encounter, or a monstrous transformation to forever brand them as a thing to be hunted and slain? Power that requires no lyrium to keep them shackled to the Chantry or illegal lyrium traffickers. Power so subtle and freely available that the Chantry has been waging a quiet, futile war upon it for ages because they know they cannot eradicate it completely?"
Behind her, she heard Alistair draw a sharp, surprised breath. He hadn't made the connection, then, between the Chantry's doctrinal struggles with the free exercise of pleasure and the fact that magical energy could be derived from sex.
"You lie!" Uldred said dismissively. "If such power existed, I would know of it."
"Would you, indeed? If you cannot sense it on me, then perhaps you're not so powerful as you think." Rìona arched an eyebrow in challenge, nodding at the desire abominations. "Your minions there know what it is. They wield it every day, so deftly that you never realized that they are actually more powerful than yourself."
Again, he made an angry hissing sound, and Rìona allowed herself a small smirk. He was pride, and that was his weakness as well as his power. Each time she mocked him, each time she flaunted her power, it would serve to make him long to see her humbled.
Uldred drew near, pressing his face close to hers. He breathed in deeply, smelling her. "Yes. You have been touched by powerful magic. And yet, I don't detect enough lyrium in you to account for it, nor enough bloodletting," he eyes narrowed, and his voice lowered, his tone purring. "Whatever have you been meddling with, girl?"
"You'll find out soon enough, when I use it to defeat you."
Uldred laughed. "Defeat me? I could destroy you this very instant if I desired. Tell me now, or I will do so."
"Destroy me and you'll never know what it is."
"Very well, then, I shall simply possess your mind instead."
"I think not," Rìona tutted. "I have read the Litany of Adralla."
"You will tell me what this power is, or I will kill these pathetic wretches right now," he screamed, gesturing at Irving and the few remaining mages.
"Why does it matter to you?" Rìona asked archly. "You seemed so very confident a moment ago that you had all the power you needed."
"With this new magic of yours in addition to what we already possess, we will be unstoppable!" Uldred declared. "You will tell me!"
Rìona paused, pretending to ponder her options as her thoughts churned frantically, seeing a chance to escape this situation without submitting to the end to which she had resigned herself. There was an opportunity here to win the freedom of the remaining unconverted mages, at the very least. It would not save the mages who were now abominations, but they were only three, not including Uldred who could not be saved in any event. Maker help her, but three she could sacrifice, if it meant sparing herself the ordeal of lying with demons.
"Let the remaining mages go," she said finally, "and I will tell you."
"You wish to bargain with me?"
"Perhaps. Or perhaps I'm just stalling, trying to bide my time until Greagoir and the templars charge in here with the Writ of Annulment in hand." She smiled sweetly. "I'm not the only one in a difficult position, you see. Unless you can complete your work and get out of here shortly, an army of templars will come sweeping in and destroy everything that moves."
Uldred glared at her, his face suffused with rage. Rìona returned his look with bland complaisance.
"Very well," he said shortly. "They can leave... except Irving. I nearly have him swayed to my side, you see. With your magic, I should have no problem convincing him to join us."
Rìona's heart sank. Above all, she needed Irving, or it would be for naught. Without him, the mages would die when the templars swept the tower.
There was no help for it, then. She had not come this far to lose the mages to the templars. She must win Irving's release, whatever the cost.
She nodded once, grimly, and the handful of mages bound beside Irving suddenly sagged as their bonds disappeared.
"Wynne," Rìona instructed, catching the Circle mage's eye and giving her an intent look. This development may have been an improvisation, not part of their plan, but it could be used to their advantage, if only Wynne could pick up on her cues. There was still Uldred to be fought, after all. "Escort them to the door."
Wynne acknowledged the command with a nod and, murmuring to the others, urged them to their feet and toward the door. Then Rìona turned to face Uldred again.
"Now you will tell me what I want to know," he commanded.
"Very well," she said, allowing herself a triumphant smile. "You were a fool to agree to my bargain, for it can avail you nothing. The apostate there knows a ritual to harness magical power from sexual energy. Anyone participating in the sex act gains the power once it is unleashed. There. Now you know my secret." Rìona laughed, as though enjoying a cruel joke. "But it's useless to you. You don't know the ritual, and even if you did, I find the notion of you acquiring a willing partner... highly unlikely."
"You will perform the ritual with me!" Uldred growled in frustration.
No. That was not acceptable. Lying with him would accomplish nothing, for he was possessed by force and could not be freed. It must be the other abominations, the monstrosities, with whom she performed the ritual.
"You can't honestly begin to think I'd stoop to lie with you, pathetic weasel that you are!"
"I am not the only one who will be ended when the templars arrive!" the abomination screamed in fury. "They will not take time to differentiate the innocents from those possessed by demons! Your only hope of getting out of here alive now rests in helping us get out as well."
Rìona cursed and spun away from him, pacing as though agitated. She could feel the eyes of her companions upon her, carefully impassive lest they give away the game, leaving the theatrics up to her. And still she felt nothing, not even glee that her ruse seemed to be working so well. She could not allow herself to feel, or she'd no doubt begin screaming in horror.
She sighed as though in resignation, her shoulders dropping, and Uldred smiled in satisfaction. Was there desire in that smile? Yes, she rather thought there was. He liked thinking he had outwitted her, defeated her.
"So be it," she assented.
Uldred chuckled, a horrid sound that was meant to taunt and humiliate. "If you find me so very repugnant, perhaps you will be more pleased to entertain my minions," he said smugly, gesturing to the deformed monstrosities that waited on his command.
They surrounded her, their skin carved in runnels like melted wax, colored the mottled brownish-purple of putrefying flesh. The aggressive one—she thought it might be a rage abomination—charged for Rìona and she heard Leliana's bowstring creak as Alistair and Sten's swords cleared their sheaths.
"If your pets injure me, they die," Rìona said, gritting her teeth as the monstrosity began shredding the gambeson she had donned. Its claws ripped through the linen of her shirt to score her skin, drawing blood. Uldred laughed again, his eyes gleaming eagerly.
"Oh, but blood is a part of our power," Uldred pouted. "See how it arouses him, to see you bleed?" The abomination parted the tatters of the robe it had once worn as a mage, the cloth stiff with dried blood and ichor, to reveal a turgid phallus the same putrid shade of the rest of its flesh. "Alas, it may be the only thing to arouse him. So you shall simply have to bleed. Don't injure her too badly; she still has yet to prove her claims," he cautioned, and the creature let out a sound that may have been frustration, and resumed ripping her garments from her body.
"Pleasure him," Uldred commanded, and Rìona closed her eyes and willed her mind to stillness. Nothing could touch her. She repeated the thought like its own litany. No pain. No fear. No revulsion. No desire. Empty. She would be empty, emotionless, like the Tranquil she had met.
She reached for the phallus before her, and sank to her knees. Behind her, Morrigan began to drone a chant.
She would not think of what was in her mouth, nor of the destructive power of those hands that continued to bruise and slice her skin until she whimpered in pain. The phallus hardened further when she did so, responding to her suffering. She would not think of the hands of the other abominations, removing the remainder of her clothing much more deliberately that the first had done. Indeed, thinking of them would be even worse, for they were—Maker, were they trying to caress her?
Yes. Sweet Andraste's mercy, she hadn't counted upon that. Desire abominations. She should have suspected. She shut her mind off to it, would not let herself feel it, those mottled, strange hands trying to arouse her...
Uldred laughed when the creature thrust too hard, making her gag and choke. "Not so arrogant now, are you?" he mocked, and his smooth, nasal voice had a rough edge to it. He was affected. "There on your knees with a demon's cock in your mouth."
Hands, their texture strange and wrong, all over her body. Hands ripping at her skin, covering her breasts and kneading, insinuating themselves between her thighs. A finger worked its way inside her and Rìona squeezed her eyes more tightly shut, attempting to drown out that taunting laughter and those monstrous fingers that felt so very wrong.
"This isn't working." Morrigan's sharp voice broke through the emptiness. "That one needs violence and suffering to be moved to passion, and you are giving it none. Those two have passion aplenty to offer, but you are not allowing it. And the one who talks too much will not be roused until you are completely subjugated. You must do better."
Morrigan gave her a stern glare and resumed chanting. She heard a concerned murmur from her companions accompanied by a wave of despair. This wasn't going to work; she'd been a fool to even think it.
The two that had been caressing her withdrew, and she felt something shift. Leliana gasped and Alistair made a choked sound of surprise. She drew away from the abomination she was pleasuring and looked to either side of her and froze.
Gone were the mottled, deformed creatures that had been touching her. They had taken on the shape of their demon selves, instead. One was identical to the desire demons she had seen elsewhere; seducing the templars, or inhabiting the Fade. Feminine and radiating unabashed sensuality. High, firm breasts rose above a pleasingly tapered waist and slightly concave belly, which then flared out into full, round hips and a beautifully contoured backside. The other was similar but unmistakably masculine, covered in rippling muscles rather than soft, lush curves. Evidence of an erection strained against the drape it wore over its loins, and from the feminine demon came the powerful scent of musk, familiar and yet somehow wrong.
They reached for her, and Rìona shrank back. She had girded herself against horror and revulsion, not beauty. They were demons; she could not rouse to them, not if she wished to keep her sanity intact.
Urgently, she again sought that blank, empty place, that place of nothingness, where no hands could touch her, no lips or skin could move her.
"If she resists, kill her and the others," Uldred demanded. The abomination growled and seized Rìona by the hair, dragging her forward again. She cried out in pain as hair was ripped from her scalp and the abomination made a pleased sound. As she had with Morrigan in Redcliffe, Rìona felt something spark, felt the power of its arousal begin to build, felt the connection of lust form between them, a living, intangible tendril that was weak and sickly at her end.
Maker help her, Morrigan was right. She needed to please them and she could not do that shut off to them, refusing to let herself experience what they were doing.
The despair of failure was strong within her, for she knew this could be nothing else now. She could not yield to them, could not let them touch the part of herself that knew fear and arousal. It would break her to do it. The most she could hope for now was to try to distract them so that her party and the freed mages could mount some sort of offense, to kill them and free Irving.
The hands on her breasts and sex no longer felt alien and wrong. Indeed, they felt far too right, far too human. The desire abominations embraced her, kissing the wounds that had been scored by the rage abomination's claws, licking the blood from them. Lips sealed over her nipples, one set firm and the other soft, while a puce-colored phallus thrust insistently toward her again. Bleakly, Rìona opened to it, praying for the Maker's mercy, for some moment of grace that would let her see a way out of this situation.
The desire abominations were skilled, there was no mistake about that. They touched her with an expertise that would have made the finest courtesans of Antiva weep with envy. Her own talents were nothing to it. And yet she could find no pleasure in it. Not in the perversion of the situation, nor in the pain of the rage abomination's brutal grasp, nor in the humiliation of Uldred's taunts. All these things she could transform to passion if she willed it, but she could not.
Displeased with her lack of response, they redoubled her efforts. The feminine one worked its strange, scalpless head between her thighs, its tongue stroking and probing, while the masculine one pressed against her from behind, embracing her as a lover would, pressing intimately close. Its hands kneaded her breasts, fingers plucking expertly at her nipples as it stroked what felt to be a long, elegantly shaped phallus along the cleft of her backside. She could feel cool breath and a hot tongue on her folds, but it did nothing to move her. She felt the chilly trail of moisture left behind by the strokes that ended at the small of her back, felt the flex and shift of the muscles in the arms that held her, and yet it was as though someone else's body was being embraced, being touched with such consummate skill.
The one pleasuring her with its mouth changed, its lithe, feminine body filling out and becoming masculine. And when that failed, they both transformed into feminine demons. Still nothing. Masculine or feminine, or one of each, still their touches left her with naught but bleak emptiness.
A tear slipped from her eye, a sign of the grief and sorrow and defeat she could not let herself feel. Uldred cackled madly to see it.
"So much more appealing now, when you're humble," he observed, drawing nearer. Andraste have mercy, there was desire in his tone, slithering over her skin like rancid grease. "This is nice," he purred, seizing her hair to jerk her head back, flexing her neck so that she strained to look up into his demon-crazed eyes. It caused her discomfort and that pleased the rage abomination. Its phallus bobbed before her face, wet with her saliva. "I forget that there are some advantages to humanity. You're so very charming when you're broken."
His hand clamped upon her breast, brutally hard, bruising. Rìona screamed and the tendril of power between her and the rage abomination flared brighter.
"But where is this power you boasted of?" Uldred demanded, his fingernails digging in cruelly. "Did you lie to trick me into releasing the mages? You'll have to be punished for that. If I find you've misled me, you'll suffer beyond measure before you die."
"Please. It was no lie!" she gasped, her neck aching with the brutal angle at which he held her head. A lump showed beneath his robes at her helplessness, her humility. She felt a hint of the delicate strand of desire that wound between her and the rage abomination flare between her and Uldred and realized that while the demon possessing him could not be sent back to the Fade, its power could still be used in the ritual. It would distract him, giving them room to launch an attack before he realized what was happening to his minions. But it was still only a hint of the power which was needed, nothing compared to that which she had generated with Morrigan.
"By Flemeth's beard!" Morrigan spat in disgust, and beyond the witch, Rìona heard Alistair and Leliana murmuring urgently to one another. "Is it your will to do this thing or not, Warden? If you will not surrender to pleasure, it cannot be done!"
Rìona closed her eyes, blocking out Uldred's wizened face and mad eyes. Her mouth trembled as she struggled form the words that would spell her own death, to admit her failure. Hopefully her companions would be fast enough with their weapons to save themselves, and Irving, once she confessed that she could not do it. This close, this vulnerable to the abominations, she knew she would not survive the initial attack.
"Is this true?" Uldred demanded, his voice growing harsh and furious. The desire demons began to draw away from her and the rage abomination stirred excitedly to hear it, for it portended bloodshed and destruction.
Her eyes still tightly shut, Rìona opened her mouth to speak, only to start at the touch of warm, masculine fingers upon her face, covering her lips and stilling her words. The fingertips were callused and smelled simply of leather and iron, rather than the subliminal, nape-ruffling wrongness of the demons. That scent was at once utterly unfamiliar and yet strangely right.
An instant later, a stubbled chin brushed her face and pliant, inexperienced lips sought hers. Rìona gave a startled whimper against that hesitant, inviting mouth.
Alistair!
There was no art in that kiss, no expertise. He was shaking so hard Rìona thought he might quake apart. Her arms snapped around him and clutched fiercely, her lips yielding to his. His hands came up and cupped her face as he drank at her mouth and her lips opened, her tongue flicking at him. One hand slid down her neck to softly stroke the tendon where it joined her shoulder, while the fingers on one side delicately traced the shell of her ear, and Rìona recalled her words to him in the Fade.
When his tongue stretched out to meet hers—tentatively, oh, so carefully!—Rìona felt it to the very ends of her extremities. Her fingers splayed across his back, digging into the planes of muscle beneath his shoulders. He'd taken off his cuirass, his padded gambeson and the linen shirt beneath. His flesh was bare and warm beneath her hands, and she clung to him desperately, as though she were drowning and he the only thing keeping her afloat. She felt a complex weave of desire flaring to life between the abominations and herself, and between herself and Alistair.
The abominations, sensing the shift, the raw potential power, pressed in closer. With a mighty shudder, Rìona opened herself to desire. Fear, horror, revulsion, humiliation all spilled over her alongside it, threatening to suck her under into madness. She gripped Alistair tighter, allowing her hands to delight in the feel of his muscles beneath her fingers as she devoured his mouth. With that delight, a surge of cramping arousal pulsed in her sex, the tension of desire building deep in her belly. As revolting as the desire abomination's hand between her thighs was, she now felt pleasure as it stroked skillfully over her pearl, making her body clench in an excess of sensation. When hot, delicate fingers slid into her body, she was slick with more than the oil she had used, and responded with a moan of pleasure.
And then she was being pulled away, and Alistair roughly elbowed aside. Rìona let out a cry of protest, but the abominations were unrelenting. Uldred gripped her face and hair, forcing her mouth back upon the phallus of the rage abomination in its hideous, deformed state.
"Now you feel the power we wield, don't you?" he boasted beside her ear, his voice filled with arrogance and the sure knowledge of his own superiority. The tendril of passion between the two of them flared brighter, for this was the source of his pleasure, his desire. He thought her humbled, thought he had broken her will to resist. But he lied, and she knew it. This was her power, which they merely touched and fed. They were not capable of generating this, even the desire abominations.
A muscled body pressed against her back as one of those two knelt behind her, its phallus prodding insistently at her folds. Rìona lifted her hips and shuddered with mingled revulsion and ecstasy as it filled her.
It. She was being fucked by a demon, pleasuring a monster. Madness threatened to drag her under once more as the thought crept inexorably into her mind. Desperately, she reached out a hand, blindly grasping, and Alistair took it within his. She laced her fingers through his own and squeezed so tightly she felt the bones shift and the knuckles crack. She held on as though her very sanity depending on that link—which it did.
Uldred made a sound of pleasure as she gagged again, reflexive tears springing to her eyes. Her other hand was seized and drawn between a pair of thighs. Rìona sensed weakness there, in the thread of desire between herself and this other desire abomination. Resolutely, she began to stroke, to pleasure that feminine form with as much skill as she could muster amidst the distractions. This one's power was desire, and it roused easily, shifting sinuously where it lay on the blood-splattered floor of the Harrowing chamber, seeking more of Rìona's touch.
Rìona moaned as the abomination within her thrust harder, skillfully finding the angle which brought her the most pleasure, and on the next thrust she shuddered with release. With the floodgates of awareness opened, it was impossible not to respond to the pleasure it wielded so deftly.
Brighter, ever brighter the mounting power burned, until Rìona was certain she would be consumed by it. Uldred gave an exultant laugh and shoved the rage abomination aside just as it quivered on the brink of release. The desire abomination coupling with her was likewise pushed away, and Rìona's hand jerked from Alistair's grasp, a fact which made her wail in dismay.
"Now you will pleasure me," he commanded, spilling her onto her back on the floor and thrusting between her thighs quickly. His robes stroked across her skin; he'd not bothered to undress. Astonishingly, his entry brought another climax, Rìona moaning and writhing beneath him, even as she clenched her eyes shut to avoid seeing that mad but too-human face above her.
Uldred set a swift, demanding pace, thrusting into her as fast and carelessly as a man would his own hand while pleasuring himself. Lips closed over her nipple from the sensuous mouth of one of the desire abominations—the feminine one—and the other, left with no activity, took over where Rìona had left off with the rage abomination, keeping that flow of desire alive between all of them.
The power mounted. And mounted. Distantly Rìona realized the masculine desire abomination was fucking the feminine one, who yet continued to lave attention upon Rìona's breasts. Once again, that undercurrent of insanity began to creep in, threatening to sweep her away into madness, and once again she reached out. Alistair caught her hand and anchored her. She could feel his own trembling and wondered if it was desire or revulsion, or if he felt the power that kept building with his templar-honed senses.
The rage abomination roared its release, and Rìona felt the surge of it within that escalating spiral of power. It bent over her and tore into her shoulders with its claws, attempting to keep the desire flowing even as its release unleashed a cascade, an unstoppable avalanche of pleasure and power. The desire abominations fell to it, one after the other, and finally Uldred, going rigid and shuddering above her, and as he did so, Morrigan shouted the same word she'd spoken at Castle Redcliffe at the moment of her own release.
The Veil sundered.
Screams and roars filled the chamber as the abominations had an instant of dismay before their bodies were frozen, surrounded by a blue-white aura of magic as they were caught up in the pull of the Fade. All but Uldred, who reared back, Rìona's death written in his eyes as he comprehended what she had done. But then Leliana appeared behind him and the point of a dagger protruded from the front of his neck. He collapsed and Rìona struggled to be free of the dead weight of his body. Immediately, Alistair was there, pulling her away, surrounding her with his body to shield her from any harm.
The bodies of the abominations began to transform; the rage and desire abominations melting into two human mages and an elf, lying in that strange rictus of being caught in the waking dream of the Fade. Just as that fissure into the Fade began to wave unsteadily, ready to be sealed, a blast of force rushed past Rìona, blowing her sweat-drenched hair like a mighty wind. It was the power of stone and ice, and immediately following it was another blast. Lightning, earth, ice and fire; every conceivable element flowed through that connection between the waking world and the Fade to the demons there and shattered their frozen and petrified forms.
The Veil sealed shut and there was a terrible silence. Peering around Alistair, Rìona saw that Wynne had indeed taken her hint and kept the released mages close by, summoning them back into the Harrowing chamber once the abominations were distracted. They had each contributed their magic to ensure the destruction of those demons in the Fade, and now they stood staring at her in bewilderment.
Rìona croaked a single word between dry lips. How Alistair understood it, she could not imagine, and yet he did, releasing her. Whether drained by the power of the ritual or the trauma of her ordeal, she was too weak to stand. Instead, she pulled away from his arms and crawled on hands and knees to Uldred's dead form and waited for the other former abominations to awaken.
She did not know how long it was, for she felt as though she was drifting in and out of reality. Long enough for Wynne to heal the gashes the rage abomination had scored in her flesh and for the blood to dry upon her skin. Long enough for her companions to help First Enchanter Irving to his feet and explain to him the deal she had made with Greagoir. Long enough for Uldred's seed between her thighs to become a tacky, uncomfortable mess. Eventually, though, the mages stirred.
They lay there stunned, and one by one their attention instinctively turned to her. When they were all awake, she yanked the dagger from Uldred's neck, as though it was she, and not Leliana, who had killed him, and brandished it at them.
They stared at her in terror. "I don't know which of you were willing accomplices to Uldred's schemes, or which of you were compelled against your wills. Andraste have mercy upon me, I don't care. I am the Grey Warden Rìona and I seek aid fighting the Blight. Just how much assistance the Tower can render shall be decided between Irving and myself, but as for you three, you will come to aid me when I call for you, or you will die this very instant, here on this floor. Until I summon you, you will be imprisoned here in the Tower under First Enchanter Irving and Knight-Commander Greagoir's supervision, but you will not yet be made Tranquil. Once the archdemon is defeated and the Blight is over, you will return here to the Tower and submit yourselves to the justice of the templars. Serve me well and I will use all the influence at my disposal to seek clemency for your crimes. Am I understood?"
Only one of the mages protested, trying ineffectually to rise and summon power to cast a spell. He fell with one of Leliana's arrows through his heart.
A cloak was draped over her shoulders—Wynne, she thought, though her perceptions were growing increasingly dim—and with her last ounce of willpower, she met Irving's eyes. "First Enchanter, I beg you give me time to bathe and dress. I will meet you downstairs and then we will discuss the terms of how the Circle of Magi will fulfill its treaty obligations to the Grey Wardens."
She attempted to push herself to her feet, but the cloak felt like a leaden weight, dragging her down. She staggered beneath it, losing her footing, and as the world grew gray, Alistair's arms were there to catch her, and carry her from the chamber.
Her last conscious, but utterly irrational, thought before everything faded to darkness was that she had begun to fall in love.
A/N: The idea for the male desire demon described in the chapter was inspired by DragonReine's brilliant and gorgeous bit of gender-swap art, What Is Your Desire?. She was kind enough to recreate that concept for me for this chapter's artwork as well.